The surgeon steadied himself. "It appears the signorina suffered a miscarriage. Recently. The blood loss from that event, compounded by this crash, has left her body in an extremely compromised state. She cannot withstand another full surgical procedure." He drew a breath. "The best course of action is cardiac defibrillation to stabilize her pulse, followed by supportive measures. It is our only viable option."
The silence that followed was suffocating. The fluorescent lights hummed overhead. Somewhere down the corridor, a soldier shifted his weight, and the creak of his leather holster was the loudest sound in the world.
Don Vittorio looked at the surgeon for a long moment. Then he nodded once.
The surgeon disappeared through the double doors with his team, and the red light above the operating theater blinked on.
"But Dad, what if she doesn't..." Felix's voice cracked. He caught himself, pressed his knuckles against his mouth, and looked away.
Don Vittorio did not turn to face his son. He stared at the closed doors, his hands clasped behind his back, his posture rigid as iron.